Nick hadn't expected much to come from that meeting. He didn't know what he had expected. He'd expected to get angry, of course. He'd expected to get defensive, because he'd expected Tom to start shouting again. Sure, Mal had said he thought Tom was on the up and up, but Nick wasn't in the habit of trusting.

What he got from the meeting was a squirming kind of discomfort, deep in his gut. He, like Mal, believed Tom. He had to. Tom had been contrite. He'd been upset, and he'd been insistent on standing up to support his kid. That was such a one-eighty from everything he'd shown as a younger man, when he absconded and left Nick to handle everything, that Nick had to believe. He just didn't know how to respond.

Nick's hurt, and his anger, had built up over a decade. It hadn't occupied every moment of his existence. He barely thought about it most of the time. He couldn't pretend it wasn't there, though. Tom himself had said he couldn't give Nick those years back.

He picked Sammy up at the Kellys’ place and headed back home. Sammy didn't have enough words to express his admiration for, and his joy in, the things Mal had taught him while they were together. His light brown eyes glowed as he talked about spending hours learning about fun things to do with his computer, and Nick could only smile. He'd have to get Mal a box of chocolate or something the next time he got paid.

Sammy did not ask about Tom. His small, slim body was tense in the passenger seat. Something was on his mind, and something unpleasant too from the look of it, but he didn't ask. Nick waited until they got home to bring it up, though. He didn't want to force the subject onto Sammy while they were driving, while Sammy couldn't get away. That would just be cruel.

And of course, Sammy turned out to be more mature and more perceptive than Nick had given him credit for. When they got into the house, he turned to Nick and smirked in that way that had always reminded him of Tom, and sat down on the secondhand couch. "So. You probably want to talk about this."

Nick sat down next to his son and chuckled. "How'd you get so smart, huh?” He ruffled Sammy's hair. "I think it's a good idea to talk about this. I'm not a fan of hiding things from you, if that makes sense."

"Um, the whole Santa thing?"

"Okay, you've got me there. But seriously, Sam. It's important to me that you know what's going on in your own life. I did go meet with your...with Tom.” He looked away for a second. "We had our lawyers with us, so we would both be on our best behavior. I also wanted Serena to be there to make sure someone would be acting in your best interests."

Sam knit his eyebrows together. "You're my Dad. You always do what you need to do for me."

"I always try. But adults are people, kiddo. And sometimes, just like anyone else, we don't always think about all of the important things when we're upset. Serena was there to make sure that even if I got mad, someone with a clear head would do what was right for you.” He wrapped an arm around Sam's thin little shoulders.

He took a deep breath. "It went a lot better than I thought. I'm being honest here. I'm not sure what happened, back in Nebraska, to keep us apart. I have to say, I kind of believe him when he says he didn't know you were on the way."

"Okay.” Sammy nodded. "But here's the thing, Dad. That doesn't change the things he said to you when he did see us. He was nasty. If someone said something like that to a friend of mine, I'd kick him in the knee."

"Sammy!” Nick pulled back, just a little bit. They'd test Sam for his gene status at school this year, but maybe it would be best to know now. "We don't solve our problems by punching and kicking."

Sammy rolled his eyes. "So I'd do it where the teacher couldn't see. I mean really, Dad. You don't let people hurt your friends like that. You just don't. You taught me that. No one should feel alone in the world. But anyway. Sure, it's bad that someone tried to keep you apart. And I kind of feel bad?”

"But Dad, that doesn't mean he should have been such a giant jerk about it. You know? He wanted to make you feel bad, and he wanted to make me feel bad, and that's not okay."

Nick bit down on his cheek. "You're not wrong, kiddo. You're not wrong. And I'm not about to get together with him. We're not going to start dating, and we're not going to run off and get married."

"Good.” Sammy made a face. "That stuff's for girls."

Nick opened his mouth and shut it again. Sometimes his son wowed him with his maturity and poise. Sometimes Sam reminded him, forcefully, that he was only ten. "Okay."

"Do I have to talk to him?” Sammy crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want that. I don't want to see him, I don't want to talk to him, and I don't want to hear from him at all. He's a big jerk, and I really just want him to go away."

Nick took a deep breath. "Not right now. We can revisit that in a while. And that was his idea."

Sammy scowled and dropped his jaw. "Wait. What kind of a dad is he supposed to be?"

Nick smothered a laugh behind one hand. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with him? Seriously, though, he respects that about you. He wants what's best for you. Eventually, he'd like to get to know you. He's willing to wait for you to be ready before he tries to put himself into your life. He is going to contribute to child support, because he feels that's important."

"But that doesn't mean I have to talk to him.” Sam held up a hand.

"No.” Nick shook his head. "You don't have to talk to him or see him at all, not until you're ready."

"Okay, fine.” Sam relaxed. "Can I have some chocolate milk?"

“You bet.” Nick let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and headed back to the kitchen to fix a glass of chocolate milk.

He saw Mal at work on Monday. Mal didn't ask him about the meeting. Instead, he praised Sammy. "Your son was incredible," he said, as they caught a break from the typical bustle. There had been a bad accident during the morning commute and both men needed a break, with coffee. "He was so good with Danny, and he's got a real gift for networking and security."

Nick frowned. "He's ten. Shouldn't he be, I don't know, looking at games and trying to figure out how to get his hands on games rated just beyond his age group?"

Mal waved a hand. "Sure, sure. He plays plenty of games, and he can get at whatever games he wants. Don't kid yourself. He's been charging them back to the account of a principal he didn't like, oh, two schools ago? I'm not entirely sure. Like I said, he's got a real gift."

Nick massaged his temples. "I do not need that headache on top of everything else."

Mal laughed, but a little tinge of pink appeared in his cheeks. "Try not to think of it that way, Nick. Think of it as, I don't know, a potential job skill that should be nurtured. He doesn't have to use it for anything the law doesn't like, and he'd rather play in that sandbox than mess about with pee-wee football or whatever it is. The concussion game, not proper footy of course."

Nick shook his head. "I get that it's been hard for him, moving around the way he has, but we've got a home now. He can have a normal life, for crying out loud. He can be social with other kids."

"He is social with other kids.” Mal squirmed a little. "Look, I can see that look in your eyes. There's guilt there. You're feeling weird about the way you raised him, all the moving and that. And—don't take this the wrong way—it's good you're feeling that, because it means you're taking your role as his parent seriously. But you did what you had to do for your son. It wasn't always fun for him, but it was still what you had to do for him. Yeah?"

Nick chewed on his bottom lip. "I can't expect you to understand.” How could he? Mal was just some guy from overseas. He'd made a mistake as an adult. He hadn't had to wander all over the country chasing the next job.

Mal put a hand over Nick's. "I've been the kid who did move around, all over. And my Da didn't have anything like your reasons.” He winked. "You've done what you had to do, and it's okay. You're not giving Sammy the life you had back in Nebraska, but Nebraska doesn't exist anyway so that's fine. He's got a decent life. He's got an incredible brain that loves the challenge of networks. Let him enjoy it, and I'll make sure he doesn't get into trouble.” He took the hand away.

"Why would you do that, though?” Nick tilted his head to the side. "You've been phenomenally helpful. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate everything you've done for me and Sammy all this time. But I just—why would you keep an eye on Sam in that way? Why wouldn't you want him to be out playing football or something like that?"

"He's not interested in football.” Mal sighed. "He might be more willing to talk about this stuff with me than with you, because you're his dad, and he wants your approval. But he's not interested in football because he knows his father played.” He lifted an eyebrow. "There's a lot of anger there. And now it's got a direction."

Something cold formed in Nick's gut, but he tried to ignore it. "What, you're a psychologist now?” He gave Mal a teasing grin. "I thought you were a nurse!"

Mal threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, I am. I've just played a few other roles along the way. Anyway, just keep that in mind, yeah? I was that kid, in a lot of ways. He's going to turn out okay, but he's not going to be his father. And that's okay."

Nick looked down. "I wasn't trying to force him into a mold, but I suppose—” He broke that train of thought off as his pager went off. When Mal looked down at his pager at the same time, Nick knew something terrible had happened.

They threw away their half-finished coffees and ran back to the ER. The whole staff was scrambling to prepare for something, and the head nurse grabbed Mal and sent him off to the roof to receive helicopters without any more formality than a barked order. "What's going on?" Nick asked as Mal ran.

Kim's eyes were wild as she turned back to him. "There was an explosion.” She smoothed her scrubs. "At a big freshman orientation event up at a historically Black university across the bay. There are a lot of injuries. I mean a lot of them.” She swallowed. "It's pretty bad."

Nick licked his lips. "Okay.”

Nick had just graduated from nursing school. He'd done work in emergencies, but never in mass-casualty situations. They'd had some training, but it wasn't like they could actually have a bombing or a plane crash to practice on.

He pulled out his phone, but someone else was already calling. He didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Nick? This is Trent, Mal's husband. I'm picking up my son from daycare tonight. Mal's going to be working overtime, and I'm guessing you will be too. Do you want me to pick Sammy up from day camp, too? It's not a big deal."

Nick's pulse sped up. This was real. He couldn't flub this one. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Trent. Thank you so much. I really appreciate this."

"No worries. Good luck.” Trent hung up.

Nick turned to Kim. "That was Mal's husband. Child care is all taken care of. I'm here for whatever you need."

Kim nodded slowly. "That's...that's pretty impressive, actually. I'm glad you've gotten so close with a Navy spouse. They're pretty tight-knit. All right. Come with me. They've got a ton of casualties, and they're spreading them out around the area. No one hospital can handle them all."

Nick steeled himself and put himself into the mindset to get to work. It took a good half an hour to get from the University to the hospital by ambulance, although helicopters got there sooner. The injuries that came in were horrific. Nick saw burns. He saw sharp force injuries from debris and blunt force injuries from building parts and from trampling as people tried to flee in panic.

He saw a lot of those injuries on the same people.

He prepped a lot of IVs. He performed more stitches than he'd done in his life. He inserted catheters, and he helped triage incoming patients as they presented. Through it all, he had to wonder exactly what kind of explosive accident could have caused destruction on such a massive scale.

He couldn't afford to get emotional about it. There would be time enough for that later, when he was home and away from the patients. A nurse had to be calm, collected, and competent at all times, otherwise his patients would panic. He had to reduce everything to exactly the job in front of him, exactly that body part and no more. Deep inside, something inside of him was screaming.

He wasn't an investigator. He wasn't a cop, and he wasn't a detective. He didn't think it took any of those people to tell that this "accident" was an act of violence. The injuries that passed through his hands were, increasingly, shrapnel injuries. A gas leak didn't send a fistful of nails or ball bearings through an eighteen year old's stomach.

He approached Kim. "This is a crime. We need to save all of these bits for the police."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I'll put the word out."

How much evidence had already been lost? That wasn't Nick's problem. Surely there would be evidence at the scene that would give investigators what they needed to nail the bastards that had done this. In the meantime, he would do the job that was in front of him.

And when he got home, he would make extra sure to hold Sammy tight. The sight of all of these young kids in the prime of their life was more than he could handle.

***

Tom knew, as soon ashe heard about the explosion, that it was a damn bomb. It wasn't exactly rocket science. The flames of racial hatred had been fanned for a while lately, and the school was ninety-five percent black. That alone made the explosion suspicious. When the explosion happened during the Welcome Convocation, one of the few times that they'd have such a huge number of students in one place at one time, that just confirmed Tom's suspicions.

He grabbed Kelly. He and Kelly weren't all that close, but he'd been helpful as this whole drama went down with Nick. More importantly, he could call Nick while Tom couldn't. "Look, I hate to drag you into all of this mess again, but you're the only one I can go to with this. I'm like ninety percent sure they're going to ask Nick to stay late."

"Probably Mal too. It's going to be a horror show over there.” Trent grimaced. "What about it?"

"Nick's kind of alone out here. He doesn't have anyone he can call for backup childcare, and it's not like Sammy can just go home and take care of himself all night.” Tom had no idea what the arrangement was, if Nick had to work late. For all he knew Sammy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but the kid was only ten. There was a difference between taking care of himself for a couple of hours after school and getting himself to bed. "And Nick's a new guy, he can't just turn around and refuse to work late in a shitshow like this is going to be. He'll get fired like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Kelly winced. "You're right. I don't know how Nick's going to feel about him coming over, but I'll ask him.” He grabbed for his phone.

Tom stopped him. "You can't tell him I said anything."

Kelly rolled his eyes. "Seriously, dude?"

"Seriously. I'm not supposed to be interfering."

Kelly dialed Nick's number. Tom held his breath while he called, but Kelly didn't mention Tom at all.

Then Kelly hung up. "It's all set. You, Fitzpatrick, are a fountain of drama."

"Yes, I am.” He rubbed at his face. "But at least Sammy's taken care of."

He squirmed all night in the privacy of his own condo. It shouldn't be up to Kelly to take care of Tom's kid. Tom should be the one looking after his own, damn it. They weren't there yet, though. Sammy didn't want anything to do with Tom. If the emergency were truly dire, Tom would step in. In the meantime, though, he would step back and let Sam's comfort take precedence.

The whole naval station at Virginia Beach was on high alert the next day, which just proved that Tom had been right about the nature of the incident at Douglass University. The base wasn't just on an official high alert. Everyone on base was tense. They were jumpy. They stood up straighter. Their uniforms were crisper. They saluted with more zest.

The platoon's training picked up, too. Their training had its ebbs and flows, as a general rule, but the timing made Tom think a decision had already been made. When they got pulled into a conference room after lunch, Tom wasn't surprised.

Everyone on the team had seats they usually sat in. Tom didn't have to think about who else was in the room, he just noted any empty seats. There weren't any; even Baudin was there, with his broken arm and all. The difference between this briefing and other briefings was the presence of two women.

The first woman was young, and wore an officer's uniform. She had dark, olive-toned skin, and her dark hair was short and curly. She gave all of the SEALs a bright, friendly smile, but her dark eyes lingered on the civilian in the room.

The other woman, the civilian, was taller than the first. She wore a tailored pantsuit, and wore a gun openly at her hip. A true civilian wouldn't have been allowed to do that on base, so she must have been law enforcement of some kind. Her skin was pale, and her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a bun at the back of her head.

Lt. DeWitt cleared his throat as the door was closed behind the last person to enter. "Gentlemen. It is vitally important that anything said in this room not leave this room, at all. Are we clear?"

Tom added his voice to the chorus of "Yes, Sirs" that rang forth. DeWitt's words weren't normal. He would typically give a specific security classification, such as "secret" or "top secret.” This was different. Tom didn't care for different. Few sailors or soldiers did. They loved their routines. Deviation meant shit had hit the fan, and nothing good ever came of that.

DeWitt nodded once. "Good.” Tom wondered, just for half a second, what he'd have done if someone balked. "Allow me to introduce Lt. Victoria Baldinotti from Navy Intelligence. Lt. Baldinotti has been deeply involved with some of our more exciting recent work in Southern Europe."

Baldinotti waved. "Hi.” She sat up a little straighter and ironed out her lips. "It's been an exciting week for us in Intelligence."

"I'll bet." The other woman, cool as a cucumber, just raised an eyebrow.

DeWitt smirked at her. "And the lady with the hand cannon on her hip is Agent Natalie Aliprandi, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Aliprandi cleared her throat. "It's a little out of the ordinary for me to be here, I'll be the first to admit. But I'll give you three guesses about why I'm here, and the first two don't count."

Robson snorted. "You're here about the bombing."

Chief rolled his eyes at Robson. "You got some kind of insider information we ain't got, Robson?"

"No, Chief.” Robson pressed his lips together. "I just don't believe in coincidences. A black school, around here? An explosion with that much force? Nah, no way that was an accident."

Aliprandi nodded. "As it happens, you're absolutely right. We're keeping it very quiet right now, because we don't have any information beyond the fact that this was deliberate."

Baldinotti coughed into her fist, just once.

Aliprandi squirmed. "We don't have any verifiable, actionable information beyond the fact that this was deliberate.” She turned her gaze over to Baldinotti. "Unless that's changed."

Baldinotti looked up at the ceiling and bobbed her head from side to side. "That depends on your definition of 'actionable.' Your standards are different than ours, of course.” She gave a grim little smile. "You need a warrant, for one thing. We can't operate in the States.” She drummed her nails on the table.

"The thing you have to understand about Intelligence is that we get a lot of information. We're talking enough reports about this threat or that threat to fill this room fifty times over, if each report is a grain of rice. Our job is to find the one piece of rice, that looks like each and every other grain, that's got merit. You've heard that the CIA or whoever had plenty of hints about the September 11 attacks before they happened. What you don't get told is that we also had intelligence saying there was an imminent dirty bomb attack coming for a major league baseball stadium, a possible infrastructure plot against our dams and bridges, and a cyberattack against our financial system. We have to decide what's credible and what isn't.”

"Chatter in Europe suggested that certain groups had become a little bit more restless than they'd been before.“ Baldinotti licked her lips and swallowed. "Those groups might be groups we'd been discouraged from looking at more closely than strictly necessary.” She looked down at her notes.

Kelly's tone was flat when he replied from his seat next to Chief. "You're talking about White Dawn.” He looked around. "What? We're not talking about this outside this room, we can say their names. It's not freaking Harry Potter."

Tom snorted. "Okay. But those fuckers are over in Europe. They suck, and fighting them truly sucked. But they're over there, and we took out an island full of them. What do they have to do with a black university in Virginia?” He tried to stretch his legs out underneath the table without hitting any of his buddies. It wasn't as easy as it sounded. Nothing in the Navy was designed for tall guys, and a team full of alphas just didn't fit.

Aliprandi lifted her head up and fixed him with a cool smile. If Tom had been a suspect, he'd have confessed right then. She probably closed all kinds of cases with just that little smile. "Our bomb reconstruction experts found a specific configuration that we've only seen in Europe."

"With White Dawn.” Van Heel made a face. "I hate those fuckers."

Kulkarni frowned and leaned forward. "But wait, that doesn't make a lot of sense. It should be pretty easy to figure out who from the list of White Dawn scumbags has crossed into the States. It's not like they can just sneak across the border. They've got to fly."

"Not necessarily.” Baldinotti lifted her folder. "We don't necessarily have a complete list of people involved with White Dawn in Europe. Not all of them have records, and not all European countries see White Dawn as a threat. And it's not really all that hard to sneak across from Canada. Not everyone who overstays a visa from Europe is a member of White Dawn. You see where I'm going with this."

"If you'll recall, someone in Brass stepped in and told us all we weren't supposed to even be looking at White Dawn. So Lt. Baldinotti is taking a risk by coming to us, and to Agent Aliprandi, with this information at all.” DeWitt leaned forward. "Putting these links together took some work."

"The fact is that we did find this link, but it's entirely possible that our bomber or bombers went over there for training.” Aliprandi folded her hands together and took in the whole group. "We see that in terrorist attacks in Europe all the time. We'll be looking at links between any white nationalist groups here and White Dawn."

"So what is it that you want from us?” Chief leaned back a little bit. "We hate those guys, don't get us wrong, but I'm a little unclear here. We don't hold our own leashes, and if you think about it, we probably shouldn't. It's frustrating, sure, but when Special Forces go rogue it gets pretty ugly."

"We want information. Your team is the only one to have gone up against them, at least knowingly.” Baldinotti bit the inside of her cheek for a second. "And we wanted to warn you that it's probably going to involve deployment at some point in the near future."

"That's what we're for.” Kelly shrugged. "We all signed up."

Something in Tom's gut twisted. Sure, he'd felt that way when he first got selected to be a SEAL. Better him than someone else, someone with kids and a family and all that. Sure, Tom's family might miss him, but they weren't depending on him for anything. Now, though, Tom had a kid out there. He hadn't even had a chance to make sure all the paperwork was in order, to make sure Sammy was taken care of.

At the same time, these guys had been it for Tom for years. They'd had his back when his life depended on it. He'd had theirs. They'd seen him bleeding out onto the sand. They'd seen him puking in the gutter. They'd held him up and carried him home. He owed them everything. He couldn't very well just run up the white flag and say, "Sorry, dudes, but this kid who hates me is more important than your actual lives."

The two women nodded. "All right.” Aliprandi pulled out a digital recorder. "Tell me everything you can think of about White Dawn."

Chief started, and they went around the table. Tom didn't have a lot to add, personally. His interaction with the bad guys had mostly involved aiming and firing. Other guys had interacted more closely, like Kelly, and Kelly strongly recommended that the investigators reach out to Mal.

And that was it. DeWitt reminded them that no one outside this room was to be told that they'd discussed White Dawn at all. They were dismissed for the night, and they headed home.

Tom got home to his condo and heated up a dinner. He plunked it down in front of the TV and sat down, but he didn't turn the set on. He couldn't. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to see.

He'd been living in the condo for six years now. When he bought it, at twenty-two, he thought he was doing pretty well for himself. He couldn't afford much in the way of furniture back then, but he figured he'd get there. Now, though, he could definitely afford more than milk crates and old, bland, second-hand crap.

Deployments hadn't ever bothered him before. He got why it bothered him now, absolutely. He just didn't know if he liked the way it made him feel. Kelly would be the one to talk to, he guessed. Kelly or maybe Chief, although the thought of talking to Chief about the ways he'd fucked up ten years ago just made Tom want to go wash the shame away.

What if he died before he got to put things right with Sammy? Sure, the financial stuff should be all set no matter what, but Sammy hated him. Nick had made that clear. If Tom took a second to think about it rationally, he could understand why Sammy hated him. He'd hate himself under the same circumstances.

He'd figured he'd probably go on and start a family someday. He didn't think doing it while he was a SEAL was a great idea. They were in a high risk job. Tom had seen how tough it had been on Nick to grow up without a dad. He hadn't wanted to do that to a kid of his own.

How little he'd known.

He got up and pulled out his phone. He’d gotten Nick’s number at the lawyers meeting. His heart jumped into his throat, but he ignored it. If he could jump out of a plane into live fire, he could make a damn phone call.

Nick answered. "Tom? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Tom lied. "I just. I just wanted to talk. Are you around?"

Nick fell silent. For a second, Tom worried that Nick had just hung up. "We shouldn't meet up while Sammy's awake. It'll upset him.”

"What time does he go to bed?"

"Nine."

Tom sagged with relief. "I'll be there at nine-thirty, so he's good and out."

"Okay.” Nick paused. "I'll see you then.”

Tom smiled. Maybe there was hope. Not a lot, but it existed.